


the devil isn't really the devil but she does wear prada

by wordsasweapons



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, the rivals to friends to mutual gay crushing trope takes on FASHION, wholesome found families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsasweapons/pseuds/wordsasweapons
Summary: Zagitova and Medvedeva may have different styles, but it didn't mean they couldn't try on the other's and see how it goes.[ the fashion model AU ]





	1. introduction.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was something i had no intention of doing, but. here we go. i really have to credit my amazing galaxy brained partner in crime for this work. quite literally a lot of words in this will be your own so this is as much mine as it is yours. you know who you are.
> 
> anyway, i'm back. this is mostly completely already and you get the first two parts right now because i'm just really excited about this and i haven't been excited about my writing in a while. the rest WILL come...
> 
> enjoy! xo

_**~~~** _

 

_**ALINA ZAGITOVA** _

 

Alina is a new upstart model in the industry. Kind of a rags to riches story for her. She’s also the youngest in the heavily active field of models to reach the level of success she has, and in such a short amount of time. She lives away from her family for her work, and misses them often. A lot of the money she makes goes towards supporting her family as well, which is a big factor for her getting as much work as possible and staying as active as she can. The main focus on her branding is high end fashion. Dior, Alexander McQueen, Chanel, etc. Makeup companies are a huge part of her brand of work as well. She likes it, she likes how the different fabrics feel when she puts on each outfit, from satin to cashmere to even well made cotton. At the insistence of her manager, Vanya, Alina eventually branches out into the sports fashion industry. Which, really, wasn’t a hard sell at all. Despite enjoying the glamour and the get up of her usual wardrobe for work, she was fond of purchasing sports wear for her day to day life. Sometimes, it just felt nice to wear a loose fitting hoodie and running shoes.

 

A lot of people seemed to appreciate and sympathize with her rise, seeing as she was kicked out of her previous group for seemingly lacking what they wanted out of a model. That’s where Vanya came in, and essentially saved her entire life. Ivan Bukin was a big name in the managerial side of the business, and frankly the business as a whole. Son of Andrei Bukin, who essentially built one of the best fashion branding businesses out there. Vanya inherited it all when his father retired. His most famous client was Alexandra Stepanova. The envy of all of Russia, and voted most beautiful woman in Russia for five years straight. She doesn’t have many friends, just a handful of close people she really trusts. And Vanya and Sasha are essentially it. She doesn’t quite know still what he saw in her, but she’s grateful nonetheless. Perhaps he related to her quiet demeanor and gentle nature and how they approached everything with a smile on their faces. And a need to prove you can be more than your fathers name, or your barely middle-class upbringing. She often wondered at first if Sasha would feel threatened by such a young, promising talent, but she took Alina under her wing and taught her how to stand on her own two feet in this world. There weren’t many people you could trust, really, when this is your career choice. A lot of people in the industry, other models and such, aren’t very fond of her because they’re jealous of the rise to fame she had.

 

Thanks in part to mostly media and fan wars, Alina’s biggest rival is _THE_ sports fashion branded model, Evgenia Medvedeva. Very few people even realize the group she had been kicked out of, was the group Medvedeva had once been involved with. She was nobody then, so who cared. Medvedeva certainly didn’t. So you can imagine when she branched out into the field heavily dominated by Medvedeva herself, it ruffled some feathers. Many people asked the question _Who IS This Girl?_ And _Will She Take Medvedeva’s Crown?_ Alina decided somewhere along the lines she herself wasn’t particularly fond of this Medvedeva girl, either. She seemed cold and distant whenever they appeared at the same events. They never spoke. Medvedeva didn’t speak to her, so why should she ever try and spark up a conversation with her? She refused to follow her on Instagram, unlike all the other models she knew and did follow. Medvedeva never followed her either. But she would from time to time get a post suggested in her explore page and go snooping and found her feed to be incredibly annoying in the sense of, we get it, you’re popular, you don’t need to post so many pictures with so many people. It felt fake. No one had that many friends, especially not in such a competitive line of work. And if she’s being completely honest with herself, she didn’t think Medvedeva was all that pretty. Maybe she had nice bone structure and managed to pull off the things she did, but she didn’t think she was anything special. Not that she thought higher of herself, not by a long shot.

 

That’s Alina. Sixteen, heavily entrenched in an industry most sixteen year olds only dream of or stay far away from. Her best friend is her dog and maybe her mentor, Sasha. She misses her family every single day and lives about as privately as one could when involved in this heavily spotlighted work. No one knows her, and she isn’t keen on anyone knowing her. Knowing _Alina_.

 

_**~~~** _

 

Evgenia didn’t have quite the dramatic, sudden emergence into the industry as some people did. It took a touch longer, but when she did get her foot through the door, she took off at an all out sprint. Everyone instantly fell in love with the bubbly, out there personality many didn’t see from other girls in the industry. Before her, it was all harsh expressions and who could out do who with their jet setting and personal tear downs of fellow models. She loosened everyone up. Enforced healthy living and happy living, not just for work but in life. It used to be counting calories and testing the limits of not passing out on the runway. No one knew much about her past either, other than she was the daughter of a single mother with no father in the picture whatsoever and the former pupil of a modeling mentor and manager that most likely was the cause of Evgenia’s interest in healthy living and held her back before she was able to spread her wings properly.

 

And, most likely, it inspired the complete re-branding of her career path. She wasn’t an athlete herself, but she loved the freedom of athletic wear. She loved the ability to mix and match and customize to your hearts desire. And she had an absolute obsession for sneakers and had 100s of pairs in her closet at home, where most girls she knew in this work had probably double or triple that in the form of high heels. Nike took a chance on her, a chance that allowed her to run and never look back. Thanks in part to her new managing team, Tracy and Brian, lobbying for her nonstop. She imagines they had a big enough in since they managed Japan’s superstar male model, Yuzuru Hanyu. And it all paid off. Young girls were obsessed with her and wanted to be just like her. The perfect role model because she wasn’t perfect and it wasn’t a perfect rise to the top. She makes a name for herself and it allows her to branch out further into the fashion world. High end fashion, ball gown fashion, about to step out at the MET Gala type fashion. Tracy said it would be new and exciting for her and no one ever wanted to be one dimensional and should always broaden their horizons with as many opportunities as they could. So she did it. As you can imagine, of course, that also ruffled some feathers throughout the fashion world.

 

Evgenia’s biggest competition in her line of work was the new upstart big shot that came out of nowhere, Alina Zagitova. Media and fans alike poured over and obsessed over the idea of a rivalry. When a gossip site had obtained and posted the story about how Zagitova, at the very beginning of her career, had been kicked out of the group she eventually left, she first of all wondered how she didn’t remember this girl one bit, and second decided well, she clearly wasn’t worth remembering in the first place. Yet here she was now, taking the fashion world by storm. With her perfect training in being as polite as one could to her co-workers (who for the most part did _NOT_ deserve the curtesy one bit) so as not to fabricate a bad image, she was perfectly civil. As civil goes by not only fashion industry standards go, but Russian civility goes. An enemy is an enemy in both worlds. In private, though, she did harbor a bit of distain for the young superstar. She wasn’t melted by the sob story of her past, she was convinced her nice girl act was that, an act, because she didn’t have friends and no one seemed to like her much anyway. Zagitova wasn’t anything special in her eyes and didn’t quite understand those who did fawn over her. To each their own, she supposed.

 

That’s Evgenia. Nineteen, has the industry in the palm of her hand and refuses to let it slip from her grasp by any upstart. A perfectly happy life compared to where she had once been, surrounded by good people in a world that was constantly looking to tear anyone down. However, no one really knew beyond that perfectly crafted Instagram look into her life, and her branded happy go lucky nature, Evgenia was stoic and spent a lot of nights feeling more alone than she ever has in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

_**~~~** _

 

_**Click, click, click. Flash, flash, flash.** _

 

“Okay, I think we got it!”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yup, this is awesome. Thank you, Alina!”

 

She sports a broad smile, tilting her head in acknowledgment to the photographer, before doing the usual rounds of shaking the hands of each member of the photoshoot crew, before moving on to the design team who helped her get ready. Something she always did, something she always felt like she needed to do. After all, they did all of the real, hard work, and she wouldn’t really be here and seen without them. People praised her humble nature as if it was groundbreaking, and perhaps it was sometimes considering a lot of the industry thought themselves higher above anyone else. She just thought she had actual manners and any job was a job worthy of acknowledgement for the work.

 

“How are you feeling?” Vanya asks as he hands over her second large coffee of the day, and tucks a binder of the daily itinerary under his other arm.

 

With a small hum and after a generous gulp of the hot beverage, she says “Like I needed a boost, so thank you.” A tilt of her head to the coffee in her hand before adding, “Overall, this was fun.”

 

“I told you!” He beams. “You looked really comfortable. I knew this would be a good idea.”

 

He wasn’t wrong. He rarely was. She’s just had her first photoshoot since he suggested she try and branch into other markets, and ended up signing on with Puma. It was objectively more low-key and laid back than one of her Dior shoots or her Shiseido shoots. Where everyone was constantly on edge over a single smear of mascara or the most microscopic tear of expensive fabric.

 

She smiles warmly at her manager, conceding to his usual stroke of genius. “You always do make the right calls.”

 

“And you,” he says, finger pointed at her. “Make my job the easiest job on earth.”

 

She hides another smile behind another sip of her coffee. She was used to Vanya’s compliments at this point, though it still felt surreal at times. He showered her in praise like an overbearingly proud parent would. Though it never actually felt overbearing. He was perhaps the closest thing she had to family, with her actual family hundreds of miles away.

 

Vanya turns his wrist over to check his watch, thoughtful for a minute before he speaks. “I have to sign off on some paperwork here before we head out, but I think we’ll have plenty of time to catch up with Sasha after her design roundtable downtown, if you wanted to join us for dinner?”

 

Certainly a tempting offer. Vanya always took them to the best Japanese restaurant in town.

 

“I think I should head home. Babushka has had her hands full with Masaru all day. Plus, I could use the fresh air from her evening walk. Being in this garage like building all day feels stuffy.”

 

Vanya rolls his eyes affectionately. “Always finding something to make excuses for to spend time with your dog instead.”

 

“I do not!” She protests, frowning when he steps forward with a chuckle and then gives the top of her head a kiss goodbye.

 

“Tell Babushka I said hi, and save me some banana sour cream to pick up in the morning before your meet and greet tomorrow.”

 

Right. The formal announcement of her deal. With the press first, and then the fans who show up to these things just to get a glimpse of the new lines of clothes, and then of course her.

 

“I’ll call the car around to take you home and I’ll finish up here. And I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Coffee at the ready.”

 

She does a mental check if she has everything settled in her phones calendar, alarms and all before nodding. “Thank you, Vanya. Please give Sasha my best.”

 

She reaches for a hug, that will most likely be given to Sasha as much as it was just given to him before she wanders off to the changing rooms to wash the light makeup off her face, return the modeling clothes to the closet and put her own street clothes back on.

 

She sits lazily in an arm chair for a while before doing any of those things, though. Scrolling through her Instagram feed and spotting a couple of re-posts of the photo Vanya had taken, off to the side of Alina posed in front of the backdrop. Proud Dad mode in full display.

 

However, some of the comments on the fan accounts re-posts, kind of damper the warmth and excitement of the moment.

 

_Alina out there getting that Puma money!!!_

 

_Medvedeva is shaking_

 

_omg this flex_

 

_lol the poor mans nike model_

 

_Zhenya did it first and better_

 

_This FLEX on Medvedeva! Nike who?_

 

She sits with her elbow on the arm of the chair, phone in the palm of one hand and head resting in the palm of the other. A heavy sigh escaping her.

 

Sometimes, it felt as though she couldn’t do anything without it being some sort of big deal, for all the wrong reasons in some people’s eyes.

 

.

.

.

 

“Have you thought about what kind of outfit you’ll put together for the gala at the end of the month?”

 

Tracy’s voice manages to register above the hustle and bustle of the market they’re both wandering through. She needed more strawberries. Tracy needed to pick her brain a bit.

 

“I still have a couple of weeks,” Evgenia murmurs. Inspecting a container of raspberries before deciding against them and reaching for the blueberries instead.

 

“Thirteen days.”

 

“Right. So two weeks.”

 

Tracy sighs. Sometimes Evgenia felt bad for her, she could be quite stubborn sometimes, especially on her off days when she wanted to not think at all and do much at all. Tracy, however, remained patient.

 

“It’s a big event, you know.”

 

“Everyone will be there, many socialites and and their husbands, photographers and models. I know. I am thinking about it.”

 

Tracy gives her a side-eyed look of a disbelief. Busted. Evgenia just smiles.

 

“If I give you a color will that ease you a bit?”

 

Tracy shrugs, like she’s begging to be impressed.

 

“I think I’d like to go in black.”

 

“Simple, tasteful. That’s fine by me.”

 

“Excellent,” Evgenia says, clasping her hands together in one clap. “Now, I need to find the best cherries here.”

 

“Is this what you always do on your day off?” Tracy inquires, taking an actual look around the crowded market since they had arrived. “Aren’t you ever afraid someone might recognize you, which turns into a swarm?”

 

“Not really,” the brunette says with a shrug. “It’s crowded enough on the weekends that I can simply breeze through without bringing attention to myself. Weekdays, however. That’s where they get you. Not enough people to hide in plain sight around.”

 

It sounds like she’s just passing it off as a joke, and sometimes she did need to find humor in things, but truth be told, it was exhausting sometimes. Not that she would ever turn away a genuine fan, and she did encounter them. Little girls who tell her they’re going to be just like her. Middle school aged girls more interested in selfies to remember this moment with, but still genuine in their excitement.

 

It was the teenage boys, or worse, the adult males she would encounter that wound up ogling her more than anything else. Or those sweaty and overbearing gossip site people. Paparazzi.

 

Evgenia’s ideal day was fresh air, a stroll through the weekend street markets, smoothie making back home and binge watching anime. Sometimes she would bake cookies with her mother, too. If they both had the same weekend off.

 

Being swarmed by people or having people stop, then double take and so clearly be thinking then that they needed a moment with her, made her feel that alone feeling she hated a lot. She didn’t mind it, most days. But her line of work could be incredibly isolating. Her brand was outwardly friendly cheerful, the popular girl with all her friends all over Instagram. Truth be told she wanted to post pictures of her French Bulldog and bowls of fruit 24/7 and bad comedy videos.

 

Tracy’s company is nice, though. And she helps her find those cherries, giving her a kiss on the cheek before she departs on her next check in with one of her and Brian’s many clients.

 

When she gets home, she does wind up posting a picture of fruit and her dog. Making Jerry sit, albeit rather grumpily, with the bowl in front of her on her lounge chair. Taking a selfie with Jerry. Adding a simple filter to it and uploading.

 

Likes and comments come in at a frenzied pace seconds after it goes up. Evgenia pops a blueberry into her mouth and scrolls. She doesn’t know why, she’s been told before to let it go because dumb comments on the internet don’t actually matter. Unsurprisingly, she finds exactly what she knew was going to be there.

 

_Don’t let Jerry get ahold of that!!_

 

_Zagitova wishes she was this cute_

 

_Zagi stole all of Medos money so she’s gotta get cheap food_

 

_Out here just reminding us she’s got a dog too I see_

 

_AZ is working and she’s sorting fruit lol_

 

_Go back to posting all your weekly arm candy you aren’t an aesthetic blogger_

 

Half the time, she doesn’t know why she bothers to continue leaving the comments for any of her posts turned on. She gets flooded with the same thing all the time. She couldn’t win for trying.

 

.

.

.

 

As promised, Vanya arrives at 8AM sharp. Just as she’s finishing her zombie like walk around the building with Masaru before she leaves. She can get herself up in the morning, but it doesn’t always mean she’s going to be happy about it. Vanya learned that the hard way in the beginning of their partnership when he showed up at the apartment at 5AM to pick her up and get her to the airport and through security by 7AM. And every single thing she was told to do, she did the opposite. Now, he never shows up without a coffee in hand and a hushed voice.

 

What teenager even wants to get up that early?

 

Most aren’t flying off to Paris for a fitting of rare, designer outfits. They’re going to school or sleeping in and watching cartoons in their pajamas when they do finally wake up. Sometimes she missed that. She’s been missing that a lot lately. When the media seems heavily against her and people online seem to think she has it out for the industry’s darling.

 

Something she brings up with Vanya in the car ride, half the coffee downed and her early morning temper in check.

 

“I’m not sure what else to do. Every move I make is scrutinized, or garnered as some sort of threat.”

 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think there is much you can do,” Vanya says with a regretful sigh. “It comes with the territory of being in the public eye.”

 

She stares out of the window. Chewing on her bottom lip. “The public are idiots.”

 

A snort of laughter is his first response. “You’re not wrong about that. You just gotta keep doing your work, and nothing else matters. You could always turn off the comments, or we could have someone take over your page.”

 

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head and turning to look at Vanya. “I do like getting to see and interact with the genuine fans. They deserve to hear from me.”

 

A small smile, and a gentle nudge of his elbow to hers. “Chin up, Alinka. If worse comes to worse, I’ll gladly go to war for you.”

 

That makes her laugh. Genuinely, chest filled with warmth and shoulders rising and falling with the motion of the sound she lets out. Picturing Vanya starting a full on war against internet trolls is something she would actually pay to see. Mostly because his idea of fighting is slapping on a mean face and puffing out his chest to appear more as an imposing bear, rather than a cuddly one.

 

Truth be told, he did enough for her already. He took care of her entire schedule, all she needed was to know which day to show up to which thing and accept the invitations she wanted to accept day by day. He took care of travel plans, finances and security. She didn’t need him yelling at people online for her, too. Even if she knew he would without a complaint.

 

“How long will this press junket be today?” She asks as the thought crosses her mind.

 

The sound of a folder opening and paper rustling fills the momentary silence. “No more than an hour. Meet and greet afterwards no more than half an hour.”

 

“Okay. Can we go get a late lunch afterwards?”

 

Vanya smiles knowingly. “I’ll call Sasha and make a reservation.”

 

When she had a lot on her mind, Sasha was the person she confided in most.

 

And it gives her the added boost to get through the day. The best part of these types of events are of course when she gets to sit behind a table and meet young girl after young girl. Listening intently to their stories or cracking jokes to ease their nerves over meeting her. It erases the question and answer sessions in front of the press, that more or less had the same questions she’s asked all the time. But she takes it all in stride each time, answers each one with a smile, and thanks each member of the press who stands to ask her anything.

 

Vanya claps from the side after each question, checks his notepad to make sure none of the Do Not Ask questions slip through. Those usually consisted of personal questions, like her finances. That was tacky. Questions about her life and family. She shared when she wanted to, usually during more intimate interviews. One on one with someone. Definitely not a press junket that mostly sold their stories to gossip sites, or wrote for the less reliable news outlets throughout the country.

 

The latest addition she thinks should join the list, is when she gets asked whether or not she had a date for the big gala event at the end of the month. If she was dating anyone at all.

 

“I’m not dating nor do I have intensions to date anyone. I have more important things to focus my attention on.”

 

Really, who cares that much? Why does anyone care that much?

 

And, of course, the other topic that may find itself on her Do Not list…

 

“Do you think signing on with Puma, and entering the athletic wear arena, you could be stepping on the toes of the already well established Medvedeva?”

 

For a brief moment, she simply stares blank faced at the man with his annoying little recording device and ugly tan suit jacket and his sloppy slicked back hair. Breathing in slowly before bringing the microphone to her lips.

 

“I’m not trying to fuel something that doesn’t exist in the first place. We both have our own styles, and I have nothing more to add to the matter.”

 

She can practically hear Vanya’s teeth grinding at that answer. Fielding a few more, that are thankfully more casual and ease the tension that had set in the room.

 

Vanya gives her a pointed look, and she just shrugs it off. Grabbing her coffee and heading for the autograph signing in the other room. The aforementioned easier part. Where she gets to smile the whole way through, and actually mean it. She writes special messages and takes pictures and though the security team is against it, she accepts several gifts. Even extending her time, which wasn’t a rarity, to make sure everyone who showed up got their time with her. All it took was one little girl crying at a meet and greet several months prior because they told her time had run out, and she never wanted to see that happen again.

 

When it does end, she waves to those who lingered around to get one last acknowledgment from her, cheers erupting as she smiles and blows kisses to the crowd. Eventually escaping into the back with Vanya waiting, coat and purse outstretched toward her.

 

“I thought that one guy was going to burst into flames if you glared at him any harder.”

 

“Which one?” She replies in a monotone, shrugging her coat on.

 

Vanya chuckles. “The guy with the Medvedeva question.”

 

A disgruntled sound escapes somewhere from Alina’s throat. “I didn’t say anything bad about her.”

 

“You never do,” Vanya quickly responds. “However hard they try to bait you. We can discuss whether or not we issue that to the Do Not list.”

 

Though she had been thinking about it, she wouldn’t really know how to handle the heat if that information got anywhere in the gossip circuit. Better to grin and bear it.

 

“At this point, I think I would prefer the questions about Medvedeva over the incessant questions about whether or not I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Even if you wanted one, no boy would get within ten feet of you with me around.”

 

Alina smirks. Playfully jabbing him in the stomach with her pointer finger. “You, and my father, can fight over fatherly duties of fighting off boys some other time. Right now, we’re going to be late to meet Sasha.”

 

Vanya grunts in realization, pulling his cellphone from his jacket pocket and speed dialing Sasha on their way to the car. The ride spent mostly with her grappling over which picture from the event to post on her instagram, and napping for about fifteen minutes.

 

When they arrive, Sasha is waiting with hugs. Warm ones that always feel like the closest thing to home. Vanya orders for them, family style, and they all pick off each others plates. Talking animatedly about the three day long round table Sasha has been participating in with designers and sponsors for a show she’s planning at the start of the summer to launch her own dress line. Alina of course was eager to accept a spot in the show when Sasha had first announced it.

 

“And how about you? How was your Puma appearance today?”

 

She shrugs her shoulders lazily, fiddling with the napkin in her lap. “You know how those things can be.”

 

Vanya chimes in, grinning. “Alinka got asked about our favorite enemy again today.”

 

“Oh really?” Sasha chuckles lowly. Pinning her younger counterpart with a questioning eye and perfect raised brow. “What was it this time? A secret plot to take her empire down?”

 

“More or less,” Alina sighs. Meeting Sasha’s eye warily. “Do you think it’s possible to continue on with this work, and not step on anyone’s toes?”

 

“Well,” Sasha starts. Leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. “There’s always going to be competition. Everyone wants everyone’s job. But, that doesn’t mean you’re out to destroy anyone. I’ve had to make career choices that more or less ended friendships with a few people, but I think that says more about them than it does about me. I didn’t do it to hurt them, I was simply trying to better myself. You can’t hold yourself back because you’re afraid you’re going to hurt so and so’s feelings. If you do go out of your way to hurt someone, well, that’s an entirely different discussion.”

 

“One we hope to never have,” Vanya adds.

 

“I don’t _want_ to ruin anything for her. I don’t even know her!”

 

“Maybe we should organize a meet and greet between the two of you, just to clear the air.” Vanya is sincere in his words, and both girls just blink in his direction.

 

“Ooooor not,” he murmurs.

 

Sasha reaches over and places her hand over his, squeezing affectionately before turning her attention back to the younger. “This only has to be a big deal if we make it a big deal. Scandal sells for the media market, but it does nothing but tarnish our images. There’s no reason to make something ugly out of nothing.”

 

She sits there and considers those words. Words she desperately needed to hear. Reassurance that she needed to know she wasn’t crazy and she wasn’t doing anything to harm her reputation, or anyone else’s. It’s not her fault imbeciles in the media are more interested in the tear down of hardworking young girls than the success of hardworking young girls. Whether she much cared for Medvedeva, or Medvedeva even cared for her or not, she was simply doing the same job as Alina was.

 

A smile slowly appears on her face. Mind a bit more at ease. Giving them both a nod of understanding and gratitude. And it was her turn to receive a squeeze of her hand. There really wasn’t much left to say, except…

 

“Can we have ice cream now?”

 

They all split the largest sundae the restaurant has on the menu.

 

.

.

.

 

Evgenia’s day starts as it always does. Taming her messy curls, brushing her teeth, taking Jerry out, and then going for a run. It was the only way to beat the lethargic feeling in her bones, and make use of the limited alone time she was going to have throughout the day.

 

Today was a rather important day. Today she was meeting with a design team that had traveled all the way from Italy, just to measure and fit her in several different outfits to see what works best for a magazine spread to be shot at the end of the week.

 

She’s done designer photoshoots before, but typically aimed for a more casual look. Something you would wear to an important dinner meeting or a birthday of an important public figure. This, however, was all out. Where you’re half convinced just the label on the dress with the company’s name stitched into it is the sole reason it costs as much as it does.

 

Not that she’s never seen anything expensive before. She’s almost certain her mother would have a heart attack if she knew how much money’s worth of sneakers and hoodies and dresses she had in her closet.

 

She’s just… never been the person who _wore_ these sorts of things. Advertised for these sorts of things. That job was for—

 

“Did you see what Zagitova said yesterday during her Puma press conference?”

 

“Good morning to you, too, Yuzuru,” she sighs heavily at the sound of her colleague and friends voice booming from her kitchen. Pulling her AirPods from her ears and kicking off her running shoes.

 

“Making yourself right at home, I see? Where’s Brian?”

 

“Downstairs with Tracy. She let us in.”

 

“Of course, because my apartment is where you can come and go as you please,” she grumbles. Shoving his hand out of the way when she enters the brightly lit kitchen, snagging a blueberry muffin away from him.

 

“It’s not _my_ fault she lives next door and happens to have a key.”

 

“That you no doubt stole.”

 

“The details of my home invasion are but of little significance,” he declares dramatically. Shoving his phone up into her face. “This, however, is interesting.”

 

She peers down, reading the first headline out loud.

 

“Zagitova declares dating is the least of her worries.”

 

Yuzuru huffs. “Not that one. The second one.”

 

Evgenia snickers quietly to herself, before flicking her eyes downwards to the next line of words.

 

_Zagitova States Her Style Is Different From Medvedeva’s, “I Have Nothing More To Add.”_

 

Her attention switches back to the tilted back head of her friend, looking at her expectantly.

 

“What’s supposed to be so interesting about that?”

 

“The fact that she even mentioned you by name isn’t interesting? She’s never addressed your rivalry before.”

 

Evgenia rolls her eyes. She was about sick of that word. “We don’t have a rivalry. Just because we’re not friends and I don’t cry over her story doesn’t mean we have a rivalry.”

 

Yuzuru snorts in amusement. “Imagine you said _that_ to the public.You definitely would have one.”

 

Evgenia’s hand finds itself flicking up a mop of hair as she whacks the back of his head, right when Brian and Tracy trudge their way into the apartment and catching Yuzuru trying to retaliate.

 

“I see you both are behaving,” Brian chastises.

 

Tracy just shakes her head and moves on. “Evgenia, are you ready to go?”

 

She cocks a brow. “Are we not doing it here?”

 

Yuzuru laughs, standing up from his spot at the table and patting her shoulder, evading another attempt at a whack from her.

 

“Poor thing doesn’t know these things require an in studio fitting. Lighting is key, my dear friend. Lighting on fabric is key.”

 

“I’m going to murder you a thousand times,” she grumbles. Yuzuru just grins his close eyed grin, nose scrunched before he approaches Brian and clasps his shoulder.

 

“Tracy, Zhenya, we’ll see you later for the team meeting. Have fun today!”

 

He ushers Brian out of the door before he can so much as wave, leaving the two women lingering in the kitchen.

 

Evgenia nods before Tracy can say something. “I’ll go get my travel bag and then we can head out. Help yourself to a muffin and coffee.”

 

Tracy gives her shoulder a warm pat and squeeze on her way by, despite her feeling slightly guilty that she was ill-prepared for the day. She’ll definitely use Yuzuru as a scapegoat for her distraction. What he deemed so desperately important to show her was the least of her worries at the moment. At least she could _pretend_ that was true.

 

Backpack slung on her shoulder, she and Tracy head down to the waiting town car and head downtown to the company studio. Tracy actively typing away on her smartphone, while Evgenia muddled over the topic that had been presented.

 

“Do I have to do some sort of reply about the whole Zagitova and Medvedeva have different styles thing?”

 

Tracy looks up from her phone then, turning to look at her.

 

“I don’t see why you would need to. It’s not as though it was a grossly offensive thing you need to rebut or defend yourself over.”

 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I just wondered. Seeing as neither of us have ever really addressed the other’s existence in front of the media before.”

 

“I assume that’s because their side didn’t want the heat of comments slung around, much the same as we didn’t want that on our plates.”

 

“Like I told Yuzuru, just because I haven’t bought into her story doesn’t mean I want to destroy her.”

 

“I would refrain from mentioning that every single time,” Tracy advices. Giving her a pointed look. “You don’t want to come off as a brat.”

 

“Funny,” Evgenia drawls. “I thought we all knew that about me already.”

 

Tracy grins, reaching over and patting the top of her knee.

 

“There’s nothing you need to worry about. Just focus on the work we need to get done today, and look forward to the photoshoot at the end of the week. This is going to very fun and exciting for you.”

 

It was. And she was going to absorb every ounce of excitement there was to have.

 

Of course, it was more elaborate than she ever could have imagined. Each piece of fabric was laid out on display tables that matched each piece. So as not to cross contaminate surfaces covers with the fabrics. Or something like that. The jewelry could provide their own light sources and the heels, while never her favorite thing, looked absolutely divine all lined up. Just for her to try on.

 

The head of the Italian design team had a thick accent and half the time she couldn’t understand him, though that seemed fair with her Russian accent trying to stumble through English all morning and afternoon.

 

She gets fitted for three different dresses. All silk. One pants suit. Made of linen. Diamonds that rest perfectly over her neckline and shine from the hidden veil of brown hair. Shoes that make her feel a million feet taller.

 

She sits with a dainty dessert dish sitting in her lap and white cup with a gold rim around it, sipping fancy Italian espresso and sitting by a big, bay window. Tracy takes a picture and texts it to her, Evgenia messing around with the coloring before putting it up on Instagram and scurrying back to the designers to finalize the looks.

 

And much to Tracy’s surprise and relief, she manages to find exactly what she didn’t know she wanted, but needed to have for the much talked about gala.

 

To the naked eye, it didn’t look special. An all black dress, no super fancy cut or anything. But it looked like it would be perfect on her. And it was. Her hands smooth down her sides and she’s never felt more comfortable and confident in her curves as she did in that moment.

 

It doesn’t take much convincing for the team to let her have it. After all, they would get a sizable check just because she wore the thing, let alone to the most important event of the season with a million cameras photographing it to death.

 

She takes one of those annoying mirror selfies many of her other counterparts are always posting, but doesn’t post it herself. She keeps it just for her, as a reminder that she /can/ pull this off.

 

Zagitova and Medvedeva may have different styles, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t try on the others and see how it goes.

 

.

.

.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, moving right along with this! most of the Super Important moments are already outlined or written and this was more a bridge to those chapters, but didn't want to lack anything either. hopefully i pulled that off.
> 
> thank you always to the galaxy brain who keeps inspiring this story!!  
> hope you all enjoy, i'll have chapter four within the week!

_**~~~** _

 

In house catch up’s with the whole Orser/Wilson talent base was a bi-weekly event at the studio downtown. Round table discussions of each person’s work during the period of time since the previous meeting and itineraries for the next two weeks.

 

Yuzuru was busy promoting his brand deals in Japan.

Jun was busy with his in Korea.

Jason was between London and New York with his labels.

Evgenia was holding down the fort in Russia.

 

Seeing as she was still somewhat of the newbie on this team, Tracy and Brian were in Moscow often. Establishing a true presence in her home country. When they had purchased the studio space downtown, she was surprised. But Yuzuru said they had offices in every major city of each person they had signed. And everyone was obligated to follow along to whichever city Brian and Tracy happened to be in at the time when they finished their respective promotion tours.

 

Team building was the main purpose for all of it. Always working to have the strongest team around, supporting one another every step of the way.

 

Yuzuru was late, as per usual. But he could be forgiven when he passes around buttery scones and hot coffee to each of them. Settling down into the seat next to her with a broad smirk.

 

“Did I miss anything interesting?”

 

“You’re new clothes line is selling super well in Japan. So… no.” She supplies.

 

A hand drapes itself over his chest, letting out a wounded sigh. “I should have come sooner with the coffee to squander such an attitude.”

 

“Yuzuru, Evgenia, are you two listening?” Brian’s voice pulls them from their banter, both clearing their throats of impending laughter over their antics, nodding dutifully.

 

Brian gives them each a look, very similar to one you might receive from a father who simply didn’t have the energy to scold his children acting out, eventually returning to his notepad and continuing on with business. “This pertains to everyone. We’re all going to be staying here in Moscow for the next two weeks, in anticipation of the gala at the end of the month.”

 

Tracy chimes in right after. “Since it’s taking place in Moscow this year, it will not only be more convenient, but it will be good for each of you to establish some connection to Russia just as we do. There’s a sizable fanbase here, thanks to our dear Zhenya, that each of you could benefit from. We want you all to sell globally, not just in your respective home countries.”

 

Chatter of understanding and approval from the others seated around the table breaks out. Yuzuru elbows her gently.

 

“I’m coming to take your crown here, Medvedeva.”

 

Evgenia simply grunts. “Get in line.”

 

“Ooh, touchy,” he teases. “One might think you’ve been _gotten_ to.”

 

“No one has gotten to me, least of all _her_.”

 

“I didn’t mention a name, but good to know where you’re head is at.” Yuzuru is sporting this ridiculously smug grin that she absolutely hates when she turns to look at him. Rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to their managers, both of which were running smoothly through their discussion checklist.

 

“Now, Yuzuru I hope you’re putting some thought into the speech you will be doing at the event. Male model and activist of year, it’s a big honor.” Tracy says with a warm smile in his direction. Jason and Jun clap supportively.

 

Evgenia watches Yuzuru shrug and smile a bashful smile, the same way he’s been doing so for the past three years. Humble in front of the camera, humble away from it. Sometimes seemingly blissfully unaware of just how much an impact he makes in people’s lives, more than just some guy modeling some expensive clothes.

 

She smiles to herself. Despite their always antagonistic dynamic, she admired him immensely and though she believed in only ever being herself, if she could be even a fraction of what he was, she thought she was succeeding.

 

And it paid off for the second year in a row for her.

 

“And Evgenia,” Brian speaks up. “Female model of the year, and activist of the year.”

 

Yuzuru gives her a pat on the shoulder, Jason and Jun whoop and clap as well.

 

“I imagine they will have something special planned for you since you’ll be accepting at home. Of course you’ll be giving a speech as well.”

 

She was half convinced the speech part might end up being the easiest part of the entire event. Though, she was looking forward to it. Lips pursing in a wandering thought about reminding everyone who the real star was. Though she wasn’t fond of admitting, not even to herself, she let her mind go there, even for a second. She wanted _that_ , _her_ , as far from her thoughts as possible.

 

The meeting breaks eventually, handshakes all around and hugs for each from both Brian and Tracy before they head back to the office. Leaving the four of them huddled in a circle.

 

“Well, I know we just had coffee, but…” Jun starts.

 

Jason quick to continue. “I could go for a second round.”

 

“Usual place?” Yuzuru asks.

 

Evgenia’s already calling the car around as they walk down. The car ride is mostly filled with loud chatter from the boys, catching up on all their other activities they wouldn’t share in the meeting in front of Tracy and Brian. It just made her anxious to travel. Though she loves being home, she’s felt coped up lately. And the time away might be good to clear her head of what’s felt increasingly suffocating at home.

 

It isn’t until they’re all settled in a four person booth in what’s become their hangout that Jason, settled in next to her gives her shoulder a gentle nudge with his.

 

“You’re awfully quiet today,” he observes.

 

“She’s thinking about her media star crossed lover,” Yuzuru sing-songs. Evgenia is half tempted to kick him under the table.

 

“Yuzuru texted me that headline about Zagitova,” Jun says. “He said I wouldn’t believe what she said about Zhenya and nearly had a heart attack because the headline was about the dating question.”

 

Jason half snorts, half laughs. “You need to stop misleading this poor boy, Yuzu.”

 

“It’s not my fault he can’t read between the lines of what I meant. Zhenya read that one first as well when I showed her!”

 

“Do we have to talk about this?” She grumbles. Burying her face further in the menu propped up in front of her.

 

Jason loosely wraps an arm around her shoulders, sporting an assertive tone. “No, we absolutely don’t have to. It’s the least important thing on earth, right?”

 

Those words, and Jason’s look, are directed primarily at Yuzuru. Who simply raises his hands, conceding.

 

“Pestering her is just the natural reflex,” he starts, Evgenia, Jason and Jun all giving him an unimpressed look. Yuzuru smiles. “However, her comfort and happiness is the most important thing.”

 

“That’s nice to hear,” she offers. “Even if you’re sometimes about as bad as the gossip bloggers themselves.”

 

“Oops,” he shrugs impishly. “ _Anywho_ , I’m buying the coffee. Jason, you’re telling us all about London.”

 

She and Jun agree to split a banana pudding, lattes and mochas all ordered between them and happy discussion filling up their time. And it’s nice. It’s a good distraction.

 

But, she couldn’t be distracted all the time.

 

She didn’t want to have to deal with it. She didn’t want to have to even think about it for a second. But she couldn’t help herself. Worse, she couldn’t seem to keep herself away from blog posts and instagram chatter whenever she had a spare moment.

 

A pesky habit that’s taken root in the past week alone. Since the Zagitova headline. Despite many protests with the rational side of her brain, and the many words of advice from her mangers and closest friends that she didn’t need to trouble herself with this particular topic.

 

But Evgenia was spiraling. She’s held it together without a single hitch up until now. Very professional, never once letting it matter to her. But Zagitova had to go and change the entire game by acknowledging her existence. It was so much easier to pretend the other didn’t exist when, well, they quite literally acted as though the other didn’t exist. It was so much easier to ignore the media headlines and the flood of comments throughout her social media because whatever they were to each other wasn’t happening it didn’t exist. You can’t be bothered by something that isn’t real.

 

Of course, there’s always the possibility that she was overreacting and being ridiculous. Maybe she has been spending too much time around Yuzuru lately and his silly habit of keeping up with all of the latest gossip was rubbing off on her. All press was good press, according to him. If people are talking about you, you’re circulating all kinds of attention. Fan or hater, if either one searches up your name it’s just one more hit.

 

She was never truly convinced that was how she wanted to view things and live her life. Then again, since the change of direction in her life and career, she’s never been confronted with any situation that might put her in a precarious position. Naturally with the territory there was going to be negativity, not everyone is going to like you. But she’s never experienced a full on war between her fans and someone else’s. She’s never been the topic of a media born rivalry.

 

_We both have our own styles_

_I have nothing more to add to the matter_

 

_I have nothing more to add_

 

_Nothing_

_Nothing_

**_Nothing_ **

 

Did Zagitova think she was nothing? Not worth mentioning in a greater capacity? Not even a simple acknowledgment of her hard work as well? Having their own styles could be interrupted as such, but it felt lazy. Insincere.

 

No, no, no.

 

Nothing meant nothing more to add to what insensitive news outlets wanted to force out of them to meet their weekly hit quota.

 

But…

 

But what _if_ …

 

Evgenia, for the first time, turns off the comments for her posts.

 

.

.

.

 

Alina sees nothing over the next week. Too busy with one more meet and greet in Moscow and then catching a flight at the end of the day to Japan for the launch of new Shiseido products that she, as the global ambassador, was required to put a friendly face in front of. Selling not only to Japan, but to people back home. It’s not a difficult job, seeing as Japan was probably her favorite place to be outside of Russia.

 

They manage to fit in a photoshoot for the new line as well. Simple, tasteful. Mostly headshots to feature and highlight the makeup well. Though she considered herself an extreme introvert, she felt comfortable in these environments, talking makeup with professionals and sharing secrets and tips. Making her an easy hit amongst any crew she worked with. It didn’t hurt that she got several free gifts to take with her to explore her own techniques and looks.

 

There’s also a meeting with the assigned makeup team she was given, discussing potential looks for the upcoming gala. The never ending talk of the fashion world.

 

She was being honored with the breakout star of the year award, and because it was happening in the latter end of the ceremony, she was allotted time for a special speech as well. Though it was unconfirmed, their were rumors circulating that the two top Russian honorees would be received with quite the fanfare, considering the event location being Moscow this year. It wasn’t her thing one bit, but at the end of the day it was more important to appear before her peers, as someone who does matter in this industry, and continuing to use her voice to speak to those who looked up to her.

 

They go through several different wardrobe ideas, before eventually settling on an Alexander McQueen corset blazer, complete with black pants and a clutch to pair with the outfit perfectly. A new approach, seeing as she was always styled in dresses. But she liked the suit look immediately when she saw it. Now that she was testing her own boundaries style wise, the fear to try new things was non-existent. She’s assigned a makeup and hair styling crew to work with her back in Moscow on the day of, and all that was left were the shoes. Which, Sasha had enthusiastically decided she was going to help pick out.

 

The whole trip wasn’t entirely just business, though. They always tried to make a point of Unwinding Time when they did go on these trips. Especially in Japan.

 

Vanya is with her, of course, running the entire show as flawlessly as he can. And Sasha had decided to tag along after her show planning committee had wrapped up for the remainder of the week.

 

Between press appearances and the event itself, the three of them explore various parts of Tokyo. Her only appearance on social media are the posts and stories that Vanya and Sasha share. In fact, the phone she had with her was the one without any type of social media. Just her parents numbers and Sasha and Vanya. The perfect escape, no one could reach her and she couldn’t seek out anything.

 

Vanya had left the girls to their own devices for an afternoon while he held a meeting with some new potential clients. Both settled on park benches with sushi and bubble tea. Sasha chuckling to herself as she looks down at her phone. Alina looking up from her take away tray with an arched brow.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“People are telling me to tell you to come back to instagram.”

 

“You would think with how much Vanya posts, they wouldn’t miss me at all,” she laughs lightheartedly.

 

“It’s not uncommon for you to go lengths of time without posting. You should hold seminars on implementing social media breaks, you’re practically an expert.”

 

Alina matches Sasha’s lopsided grin with one of her own and a tilt of her head. “Completely by accident. I never got the fuss over being active all the time.”

 

“Social media is for sharing videos and photos of your pets and your pets only, right?”

 

She points her chopsticks in Sasha’s direction in acknowledgment. “Absolutely.”

 

Smiling to herself as she listens to Sasha’s quiet, smooth laughter and popping a roll into her mouth. Watching scattered flower petals float across the surface of the small pond in front of them.

 

“I’m proud of you for handling the slight backlash from that comment so well,” Sasha says, breaking the silence.

 

“Well,” she shrugs. “No making a bigger deal of it, right?”

 

“Right,” Sasha nods. Crossing one leg over the other and taking a sip of her tea.

 

Alina pauses in her pursuit of picking up another roll, looking at the woman seated next to her. “Do you think it’ll be bad when I do open it up again?”

 

She didn’t need to specify more than that. Sasha sighs, turning her body a bit more to face her properly.

 

“Most likely. But,” she reaches out and gives Alina’s cheek an affectionate pat. “Post a picture from this trip, or Masaru playing fetch and they’ll shut up for a bit.”

 

She lets out a small snort of laughter, nodding her head. No discussion further on the topic as they both finished up their food, finishing their tea as they wandered through the many different cherry blossom trees. Taking turns taking pictures of the other, making sure to send a selfie of the two of them to Vanya with a _we miss you_ attached to it.

 

Sasha winds up posting that selfie and texting a screenshot of it to her.

 

_**A break from the hard work with the number one half of the best team. <3** _

 

She sends back a bunch of heart emojis, while also teasing the effort Sasha put in to prevent her from even opening instagram in an internet tab.

 

She’s completely oblivious for the time being. A perfect little bubble, that she was practically willing to never pop.

 

.

.

.

 


	4. the gala, part one (alina's pov)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand here we are. the big night. which is really only the beginning. i had fun with this. part two with zhenya's pov will of course be just as fun. hopefully you all think so.
> 
> enjoy. xo

_**~~~** _

 

Countdowns weren’t her thing. Some people loved it, it added more excitement, supposedly, to the impending event one was looking forward to. That was never the case for Alina. The closer something got, the more nerves started to settle in. It doesn’t help that it’s the most important date on the fashion world’s calendar. She thought about some of her other colleagues planning sleepovers around this, doing face masks and never sleeping as they wildly speculated and dreamed about what the night would be. She knows this because it showed up all over her instagram feed and story updates the night before.

 

The only part of it all that served an important reminder was in fact, that it was the biggest night of the year. She knew that all along. That feeling of importance settling low in her gut before her head had hit the pillow and sent her off to a somewhat fitful sleep.

 

She knew all the reasons why it was important, but life always has a tendency to surprise you, and when Alina wakes up on the big day, she doesn’t quite know just _how_ important the night was going to end up being.

 

 

When Alina wakes up, it’s with Masaru gently licking her face, because she never seems to fail at knowing exactly when she should be awake. She was a living breathing alarm clock. Sitting up into the back of her bed, she lets Masaru climb in next to her, despite her grandmothers many protests against that for the sake of her bedding. Alina always sends it out to be dry cleaned anyway so her grandmother never had to be tasked with washing it all. She reaches for her phone with one hand as the other gently strokes behind Masaru’s ear, and waiting for her are several texts from Vanya, as well as some good luck messages from her parents and sister. Her sister of course had to tack on that she shouldn’t embarrass herself because apparently a few girls from her school class were going to be watching her big sisters speech. Along with the rest of the family, because it was going to be live-streamed and mom and dad had planned a little get together.

 

Well. If that didn’t add to the nerves.

 

Still, she sends back thank you’s and I love you’s and promises to call them if it doesn’t get too late when all is said and done.

 

Before she can even get to answering Vanya’s messages, his contact photo pops up on her screen. With a small sigh of amusement, she answers the call.

 

“I was just about to text you back.”

 

“Oh, good, you’re awake!”

 

Alina tilts her head in the direction of the clock on her bedside table, deadpanning. “It’s eight-thirty. Of course I’m awake.”

 

“I was taking bets on if you had run away in the night to avoid today.”

 

She can hear some rustling on his end, and Sasha’s voice faintly scolding him in the background to leave the poor girl alone. Vanya chuckling lightly into the phone.

 

“Well,” she draws out. “I’m still here.”

 

“We wanted to have breakfast with you before the storm that is the design team shows up to fit and beautify you for tonight.”

 

That way of describing it all gets a puff of laughter out of her, quietly singling for Masaru to get up out of the bed when she does, padding towards the bathroom.

 

“I’m getting ready now, pick me up out front, okay?”

 

“Will do!”

 

She ends the call and pulls up her music next, selecting her morning routine playlist and starting the shower, with her usual scented shower steamers thrown in. Doing as much to possibly relax before as Vanya, though joking, still rather accurately described the day ahead of her.

 

And before she leaves, she makes a pot of tea for her grandmother and leaves a note with it on the kitchen counter with a rough time of when she thinks she’ll return. Promising to bring back a late breakfast or early lunch for her. Darting out of the door a moment later, not without having said a goodbye to Masaru.

 

Vanya’s usual town car is waiting as promised, Vanya himself straightening from his leaning position against the car and opening the door for her with a smile.

 

“Good morning, rising star.”

 

She rolls her eyes, though the warm smile gracing her features gives her away easily. “Don’t remind me.”

 

Vanya gives both her shoulders an encouraging squeeze before she squishes herself into the middle seat next to Sasha who greets her with a kiss to the cheek. Vanya settling in on her other side.

 

“Where are we going?” She asks.

 

“We found this new place on the other end of town,” Sasha says. “They have a wonderful menu, you’ll enjoy it.”

 

She trusted their judgement. If they weren’t in the fashion business, she was convinced, armed with their impeccable taste, would make incredible food critics or own a high end restaurant in the heart of the city.

 

Lightheartedness ensues as the car pulls away from the curb, conversation quickly digressing to the ridiculous amount of instagram posts that unsurprisingly made countless appearances on Sasha and Vanya’s feeds as well.

 

.

.

.

 

“Do you think it would be terrible of me to order a third macchiato?” Vanya asks somewhat uncertainly.

 

Alina and Sasha both peer down at the _second_ , half finished macchiato’s of their own. Feeling somewhat guilty about it, only because they had a tendency to feel annoying after doubling down on making sure the milk was almond and not regular.

 

Both of them letting out short laughter at their own expense and Vanya’s obviously important dilemma.

 

“You don’t have to fit into a skin tight dress tonight,” Sasha says flippantly. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for added effect.

 

“Nonsense,” Vanya quickly counters. “You both will look lovely tonight regardless of how many fancy Italian espressos you consume.”

 

“You better remember that once I retire and move to the Italian country side and quite literally _become_ a fancy Italian espresso,” Sasha adds, with some warning.

 

Vanya simply smiles warmly at her, and Alina sits in her spot next to Sasha, staring back and forth between the two of them. She can’t obviously be the only one completely aware of the implication there. That Vanya was apparently going to be following along to this future retirement location. Her eyes narrowing slightly at her, essentially, work parents and for the first time questions their entire relationship in _that_ context, as if they were her own parents. That urge arising suddenly to scrunch up her nose and tell them they were gross like she did when her parents were having A Moment.

 

She doesn’t do that, instead she has a fleeting thought that it might be nice to find a companion in life that would literally stick with her all the way into retirement. She doesn’t think she’ll be invited to Sasha and Vanya’s special little Italian retirement, no matter how much they liked her. She wonders if she should retire early and jet off with Masaru to some secluded beach because that was probably the closest she was going to get.

 

Realizing how ridiculous a thought all of that was, especially given she still had her entire young adult life ahead of her for any of that, she clears her throat. After downing the rest of the fancy Italian coffee.

 

“What filter should I use for these coffee pictures?”

 

“Oh!” Vanya perks up, hand extending across the table and eagerly gesturing for her to pass her phone over. “I have an app for that, you’ll love the filters. They make some specifically for food and beverages.”

 

There’s an endeared smile on her face as she watches him sink back into the leather covered wooden booth they’re seated in. Feeling Sasha gently nudge her side.

 

“Now look what you’ve done. You’re never getting your phone back.”

 

Alina laughs, and when the waiter passes by their table she orders Vanya that third Macchiato while his attention is still occupied by the perfect filter app.

 

.

.

.

 

The rest of the late morning and afternoon are a complete blur to her. She goes back to her apartment and she’s allotted approximately enough time to kiss her grandmothers cheek in greeting, hand over the food she had promised in her note and take one breath before the team of highly trained professionals show up to beautify her. She still isn’t sure how she even had time to grab hold of Masaru before she trampled the the guy who was simply prepping her hair to be washed clean of any regular day product use.

 

She doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if the person fitting her had been male. Which was why the team was decidedly made up of females. Masaru didn’t take kindly to men, unless they were her father or Vanya. She, with amusement, remembers that fateful day not long after she had gotten Masaru, when the rambunctious puppy had knocked three boys over in the park and ran off with their soccer ball.

 

Like dog mother, like dog?

 

She remembers Vanya hovering in the background at times, keeping a watchful eye over everything. Occasionally taking pictures, of course. Talking animately with Sasha via FaceTime as she was getting ready with her own team.

 

Other than these random reprieves from the nonstop hustle and bustle that’s taken over her home, she wouldn’t have remembered the afternoon even took place without the held of Vanya’s updates.

 

“You really had to upload the picture of me with the curlers in?” She had whined during one break while her makeup set. Aforementioned curlers still in place.

 

Vanya chews on his bottom to prevent the laughter threatening to spill over.

 

“It’s important to the fanbase to see the stages of celebrity beauty. You can’t possibly trick people into thinking you wake up with those curls.”

 

“Illusion is more exciting at times,” she says seriously, like she means it. Kind of does. Considering her constant need for privacy. She isn’t even going to touch the home invasion taking place at the moment. Lest she get a splitting headache.

 

Vanya pats her on the back. “Not much longer. Then we get to eat fancy tiny food and pretend like we enjoy it before ordering fast food at the end of the night.”

 

That plan actually sounds perfect, the more she thinks about it. At least that plan involved the whole night being _over_.

 

She thinks one day she will get used to the overwhelming spectacle unfolding all around her, the first time for something like this couldn’t possibly not be daunting. But she appreciated the support Vanya provided. And Sasha, even through text and not physically there. They both kept her upright, support from either side.

 

Eventually the curlers come out and the finishing touches are made to her hair. The outfit comes next. Alina stands in her bedroom alone, stares at herself in her childhood mirror. Curls impeccable, makeup on point. Neck clad in diamonds childhood Alina never imagined she would see with her own eyes. The fabric of the black pantsuit hugging her skin. Fabric that’s probably with more than all of childhood Alina’s clothes combined.

 

It almost feels wrong. Like she accidentally woke up in someone else’s life in some body swapping experiment gone wrong.

 

But then she remembers how hard she’s worked for this. What she gave up to get here, and why she’s still doing it.

 

Chin raised as she gives herself one more once over, she whispers to childhood Alina and the Alina looking back at her. “You deserve this.”

 

And then she leaves her room, hugs her teary eyed grandmother (who naturally insisted on pictures to send to mom and dad) and makes her way out of the door.

 

The next door she exits is the door of the town car that had dropped her off in front of Moscow’s new, most glamorous hotel. Flashbulbs immediately going off as she walks the red carpet.

 

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The first half hour of the evening is spent mostly answering innate press questions. Sharing silly anecdotes with celebrity talk show hosts, like those pre-Oscar red carpet affairs.

 

Slowly but surely she makes her way into the main ballroom. Referring to it simply as a ballroom was perhaps a disservice. The room was gigantic by comparison to standard hotel ballroom’s. It genuinely felt as though the walls and ceilings were made of gold with the lighting they gave off, and it wouldn’t be surprising if a lot of it was. Men in tuxedos occupied the sidelines of the rooms, with trays of food and drink, seemingly going in some sort of timed route around the room to be sure everyone knew any food or drink existed as they mixed and mingled. It looked like something straight out of all the period dramas featuring royal courts she had watched with Sasha last summer out of sheer boredom. Feeling, just for a moment, like she has been transported back in time. The magic is lost of course with all of the iPhones out snapping pictures she will see on instagram for the coming weeks.

 

Somehow she locates Vanya and Sasha in the throngs of people. Sasha is wearing what could only be described as a jaw dropping, blood red dress. Her milky, barely tanned skin only seemed to add to the drama of the red fabric and the red on her lips. Alina is certain Sasha is the only woman on earth who could pull that off as effortlessly as she did.

 

She greets them both with a genuine smile. Despite her nerves throughout the day, now that she was here and she’s been exposed to the fanfare of it all, she was more relaxed.

 

Both Vanya and Sasha envelope her from either side in one armed hugs. Her own winding around each of their lower backs.

 

“I thought I would never see you two again!” She declares with a dramatic flare in her voice.

 

“That very well could have been possible,” Vanya utters forlornly. “Our darling Sasha here very nearly got swept away by some baby faced intern looking reporter I imagine hasn’t seen a grown woman who wasn’t his mother.”

 

Alina blinks. Sasha looks bemused.

 

She wonders if he’s jealous.

 

Whatever his demeanor currently was, it seems to dissipate when Sasha gently strokes the light scruff of his cheek. Leans in and whispers something clearly just for him. He turns and nods with a smile, stepping past Alina with a squeeze of her elbow.

 

“Where’s he going?” She asks, eyes trailing after him for a moment before turning back to Sasha.

 

“Getting us drinks. Don’t worry, non-alcoholic for you.”

 

Alina hums. Very nearly asks if there was something more that she wasn’t aware of going on, but thinks better of it. She doesn’t think they would fire her if that question was received poorly, because at the end of the day they were her bosses. But you never know.

 

“Come,” Sasha orders sweetly. Looping her arm through Alina’s. “I want to introduce you to a few people before have to take our seats for the painstakingly long awards portion of the evening.”

 

She laughs lightheartedly at that. Letting Sasha lead the way and pretty much being paraded around to various contacts Sasha knew. It wasn’t all bad, she did so with pride in her face and voice every time she introduced Alina.

 

Vanya finds them eventually, passing over the promised drinks. Elbowing her playfully. “Kid friendly bubbly for you.”

 

“You’re so annoying,” she laughs. Taking sip of the sparkling cider that tastes vaguely like the stuff her parents would buy every New Years for her and Sabina so they felt included in the toasts.

 

The three of them mingle casually with various people for another twenty minutes or so, before there’s an announcement overhead, reminding the guests to locate their reserved tables for the ceremony taking place in exactly fifteen minutes.

 

Plenty of time for her to go freshen up, if really to just give herself a bit of a breather from all of the attention before the heightened attention that was to come.

 

She excuses herself politely, Sasha promising to text her the table number before she and Vanya slowly start making their way in the general direction of the next room, presumably a dining hall, where the ceremony was taking place.

 

Nothing of significance happens in the bathroom. She gets exactly what she had been looking for, a moment of peace and quiet.

 

It’s just, that goes flying out of the window at an alarming rate when she exits the bathroom. Alina, stopping dead in her tracks when she spots the figure lingering by the otherwise unoccupied bar.

 

It’s kind of stupid to be so surprised by her. Of course she knew she was going to be here tonight. She was the real honoree tonight. The most important one. She just had hoped she wouldn’t have to encounter her in any real capacity. Having to see her up on stage during her speech didn’t count. She could still disconnect from that. This felt much more real. Evgenia Medvedeva was real and stood just a few feet away from her. Looking at her phone. Standing by a bar. Alone. Not hounded by admirers and surrounded by whatever posse that seemed to appear across her instagram feed.

 

It was very stupid.

 

Made dumber perhaps, by the fact that she hasn’t budged from the spot she is seemingly now glued to. Eyes apparently glued to her supposed rival as well.

 

Looking so human with an expression of perplexity at whatever it was she was reading on her phone. A slight spill of curls hanging loosely by her left cheek. Why she was suddenly so aware of details, _these_ details, she didn’t know.

 

Stupid.

 

Evgenia’s wearing red lipstick. Not as red as Sasha’s, but it’s red. Evgenia is wearing a black dress that hugs every single curve of her body. The heels she’s wearing making it appear as though she was tall and all legs, despite being on the short side. She looks somehow both fragile and strong at the time.

 

It was all so, so stupid.

 

She couldn’t explain any of it. Why she was suddenly so captivated. She couldn’t pull herself away. The most ridiculous cliches crossing her mind, of course. But she didn’t dare apply any of them to this current situation.

 

Perhaps she was just surprised to see her here. Like she was. So casual and not to be insulting, but seemingly unimpressive. Normal. Like she wasn’t the fashion industries biggest star.

 

Of course there was nothing that was unimpressive and normal about the way she looked. And Alina was begrudgingly (absolutely begrudging, she refused to acknowledge it any other way) forced to admit to herself that Evgenia _is_ attractive. She gets the appeal now. In a completely professional way of speaking, of course.

 

Alina doesn’t realize she’s blushing until she feels the physical evidence of it, the warmth of her cheeks. And her heart rate increases when she notices the slight lift and turn of Evgenia’s head, looking away before the other girl can spot her. Bolting in the other direction in desperate pursuit of her table and the safety of Sasha and Vanya.

 

Completely unaware of the fact that she had failed to get away without being seen. Evgenia’s dark brown eyes trailing after her retreating form with confused curiosity.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))) important night, huh? :)))
> 
> let me know your thoughts!


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